Falling for the Devil
by HazelEyesDontTellLies
Summary: Through an unfortunate turn of events, Max falls into the hands of a man who is not only evil in every sense of the word but hell bent on burning down the world if it meant keeping her safe. But all Max wants to do is get away from him and get back to her family. But can Fang change that?
1. The Deal

**Summary: Through an unfortunate turn of events, Max falls into the hands of a man who is not only evil in every sense of the word but hell bent on burning down the world if it meant keeping her safe. But all Max wants to do is get away from him. But will that change?**

**Genre: Humor/Romance/Horror rating may change, but I doubt it**

**Disclaimers: I don't own Maximum Ride and this story in no way reflects my religion and I hope I don't offend anyone – it's just a story!**

_**_The Deal_**_

_Where do you go to meet the devil?_ What city screamed the devil's name? What place on earth could you go to make a deal with the devil himself?

These were questions Jeb Batchelder never thought he would wonder, but he was a very desperate man. His wife was dying. And Jeb was too damn stubborn to just take that sitting down.

He'd gone to doctors. The best – offering however much money they needed to make her better. But it hadn't mattered. The answer was always the same. "I'm sorry. I suggest you take your wife home and say your goodbyes."

He'd prayed. Prayed for forgiveness for whatever he'd done to deserve this punishment, prayed for a miracle. He'd gone to every single church in his home town every day for weeks – had spoken with countless ministers, reverends, priests – you name it. "God works in mysterious ways," They'd say. But Jeb didn't have time for that.

Valencia was _dying_ back home. The guilt that he'd left his wife on her death bed while he went on an alleged business trip was eaten away by the knowledge that she would be better when he returned.

She had to be. He would make sure of it.

_Where did you go to meet the devil?_ Jeb chuckled to himself, but there was nothing funny about the situation. _Why, Sin City, of course._

**_X_**

Greed. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Pride. Wrath. Sloth.

It was all laid down to the gambling, the strip clubs. Stealing from others because you wanted what they had, and the all you can eat buffets; the people flaunting material possessions just to show they could, people escaping their problems with extravagant vacations, and the anger at losing all your cash in one place.

_That's why they called it Sin City,_ Jeb mused, blinking away the blinding lights.

Making his way past the casinos, Jeb tried not to look longing. But he could hear the drunken voices slurring in happiness at their latest victory and the _clings_ of automated games inside.

Jeb shook his head. What was wrong with him? He was here for strictly business. His wife was _dying._ She was already half-dead, and here he wanted to _gamble? _

"…And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…" Jeb breathed miserably. He never knew what a fucking hypocrite he was until now.

"And here I thought you wanted my help," An arrogant voice sounded from behind Jeb.

Jeb started – then spun rapidly, but no one was there. If a cross between hopelessness and relief had a sound, it escaped out of Jeb's throat in a strangled tone.

He was starting to lose it; that much was clear. What was he doing? Travelling half across the country, abandoning his wife in her time of absolute need, all for some insane belief that the devil could save him? And even if he could, at what price?

"That is to be negotiated." The same voice said, answering Jeb's thoughts.

Jeb turned, coming face to face with…with _him._ The devil. Satan. Lucifer.

But no, it couldn't be. He certainly didn't _look_ like a red man with horns and a tail, like in the cartoons Jeb had watched as a child. It was just some teenager.

"Young man," Jeb said sternly, "You scared me half to death. Now shouldn't you be on your way home?"

Jeb doubted the boy had any home to speak of. He was probably just some prettyboy high school dropout, who'd run away with his knocked up girlfriend to try and make it big in Vegas. Jeb would have felt bad for him, but he had his own problems.

As if hearing Jeb's thoughts, the boy grinned bending his head to stick a cigarette between his teeth. His the smile looked wrong, somehow, unnatural and.…unholy? _No_. There was no way this child was who Jeb was looking for. It was impossible.

"You gotta light?" The boy asked the unlit cigarette bobbing as he spoke.

"No. I certainly do not. Not that I would give you it, even if I did. You shouldn't be smoking; it's bad for you and the people around you." Raddling off something he'd heard Valencia say countless times before, Jeb moved to walk around the boy only to pause when the child stopped him.

"So you don't have a lighter…" He echoed, as if that was all he heard and all that mattered. "That's fine. Hey, you wanna see a trick?"

Jeb was getting tired of this. He needed to hurry. "No, I need to –"

But Jeb never got to finish telling the boy what he needed to do. Because the teenager had already done his little trick; flicking his fingers in a snapping motion the tips engulfed in flames.

Jeb froze, blinking rapidly. The boy didn't look alarmed, or even in pain. He waved his fingers, the flames dancing, at Jeb in a mock wave. "Cool, huh?"

"What – what are you? Some kind of street performer? Very impressive. But I need to leave, now if I give you twenty dollars will you please -"

This annoying little brat wasn't even_ listening_. He was just chuckling to himself, looking bored. He made a show of raising his hand and bringing his burning fingers together creating one solid flame, then lighting his cigarette, using his unlit hand to protect the flame from the wind, as if it were nothing but a regular lighter.

Jeb was getting fed up with this boy and his little game. But he had to know. "How are you doing that -?"

The boy with the black hair in front of him reached out, faster than Jeb could react, and placed his scorching palm onto Jeb's chest, right above his heart, and refused to let go.

Jeb shouted in pain, reaching out to grab the strangers forearm and push his hand away. But as he grabbed it the fire grew to the boy's shoulder. The boy didn't look like he was in any pain. But Jeb was; he winced, as he saw his own blistering fingers and felt murderously angry that he could do nothing to stop this little shit.

_The pain._ God in heaven, _the pain._ Did he deserve this? For doubting God and his power and going so far as to betray him and coming here? Because he wanted help from the devil? Now he was going to die – this psychopath was going to kill him, he was sure of it - and Valencia would soon die after because of his bad judgment.

But as soon as that thought entered his mind, the pain was gone. No. It was still there. But the torched hand was gone and the pain – though unbearable – was less.

Falling to his knees, Jeb examined the damage. The imprint of a black hand remained on his chest where the fabric of his white button down had burned.

This inhuman boy standing before Jeb – who was previously grinning in obviously schadenfreude*, now looked absolutely insane.

Jeb winced. "Who are you?"

"My name is Fang."

"_What_ are you?"

"I think you know."

And Jeb did know. It was the reason he'd came. To make a deal with the devil – he'd give this…thing whatever it wanted if it made Valencia better. He knew that, even as he followed the devil into an abandoned hotel. _DuMort_ the old and broken sign up front labeled it. He knew what he was getting into. And he didn't care. He _had_ to do this.

The two walked into an old empty ballroom with termite eaten floors and cobwebs gathered on the curtains of the stage a distance away. The devil whistled a surprisingly pleasant tune that Jeb didn't know as he led him to the bar.

Surprisingly, it was lit. And a man – at least it looked like a man – was dressed as an old bartender, standing behind the counter and watching them expectantly.

"Whiskey," Fang ordered. And Jeb paused –Fang certainly didn't look the legal age for drinking. But he had to be thousands of years old.

"Did you want a drink?" Fang squinting at Jeb sideways, as if daring him to say yes.

Jeb sat on the bar stool. "I'm fine. Can we skip the pleasantries?"

Fang had already drunk half his glass. "If you insist. Now, as I understand it, your wife – who you love with all your heart - is dying."

"Yes."

"You want me to fix it."

"Yes."

"Because you've tried everything you could think of. Money. Doctors…Praying."

"Correct."

"I wonder why I'm always everyone's last choice." Fang mused.

_Because you're evil. _

As if Fang could hear Jeb's thoughts, which he probably could, he agreed. "Yes. I am. And you know that I won't give you what you want for nothing."

"If it's my soul you're asking for – "

"What makes you think you're so special that I want your soul?"

It's what always happens, was Jeb's only answer, in the movies, and TV shows and cartoons – cartoons that his unborn child would never get to watch if Fang didn't help him.

Fang's eyes suddenly snapped up to Jeb with an actual interest he hadn't yet shown. Fang had so far acted as if he didn't care whether Jeb stayed or went, died or lived. But now he was prying through Jeb's head curiously.

"Your wife is pregnant."

"I – yes."

"You didn't mention that."

"It didn't realize it was important."

Fang's eyes narrowed. If Valencia died, the baby would die. Jeb had to know that. The baby wasn't far along enough to be saved through emergency C-section. "You didn't think that your _only _child's death was important?"

Jeb said nothing. Why did he care if his wife was pregnant? That wasn't important – Valencia's life was on the line. That was what mattered. He knew Fang was prying through his thoughts once more, but didn't try to stop him.

"You don't care that your child would die, because you never wanted it in the first place." Jeb made no move to contradict Fang. "But Valencia wanted a child, and you love her and would do anything for her, so you agreed. And now you found out Valencia is dying. And what's worse is you actually believe, in the back of your mind, that it's the baby that's killing her. Don't you?"

Jeb said nothing for such a time that Fang thought their conversation was over. But then, "Yes. Yes, I do."

Fang scoffed in what was almost disgust. Humans were so cruel. "So get your wife an abortion. You don't need to come to me for that. "

"Valencia would never forgive me."

Fang considered this. "So you want me to make it all better. Fine. It's as good as done. But in exchange…you will give me the child."

Jeb started. "What – what could you possibly want with a baby?"

"That's none of your concern. You don't want it, and now I'm taking it off your hands. You should thank me. This is what you wanted. Deal?"

On its own accord, Jeb's hand shot out and gripped Fang's. They shook firmly and Jeb knew he was sunk.

This _was _what Jeb had wanted. No child to take after for the rest of his days; just him and Valencia for always. But…Valencia would be heartbroken. And how would he explain? What would he say?

Listening to Jeb's thoughts once more, Fang smiled wickedly. "Oh yes. What will you say to your wife, who wants that child more than she wants to live; say when she finds out you gave it away to the devil? I'm no mom but, if I were, I'd be angry."

Jeb would deal with that. He would fix it somehow. Valencia would never know. "When will you collect the baby?"

Fang considered this, then pretending to take pity on Jeb, "It occurs to me that hell isn't exactly a good place to raise an infant. Maybe you could watch after the child for me…at least for sixteen years or so."

"What? But – "That wasn't the deal. Fang had made it sound as if he was going to take the baby the second it was born. He had been tricked.

"I'm _helping _you," Fang snapped. "Don't be an ingrate. Valencia gets to keep her child, at least for a while, and she's happy. And then I'll take the baby off your hands, just as he or she starts to get into that angsty teenager stage, and you're happy."

"What will I say to Valencia when her sixteen year old child just vanishes one day?" Jeb demanded outraged.

"That's not my problem."

Jeb could think of nothing to say and between one blink of his eyes and the next, Fang was gone.

And Jeb was alone in an abandoned hotel. The bartender was gone; as if he was never there in the first place – cobwebs and dead bugs littered the counter and Fang's whiskey glass had vanished.

"Don't get attached." A voice hissed into Jeb's ear. But Jeb didn't turn to see behind him as he had earlier. He already knew no one was there.

**_X_**

When Valencia had made a miraculous recovery, the doctors declared it had been a miracle. Everyone had thought Val would die. But she hadn't – and her recovery had even made the cover of several local magazines. It was a miracle, the doctors said. An act of God.

But Jeb knew better.

When eight months later Valencia gave birth, all the paparazzi and reporters had followed them to the hospital.

Everyone wanted to get a look at the miracle baby. Everyone wanted to know – boy or girl? Girl. What's the baby's name? Maximum. Everyone wanted to get it on tape when Valencia said, "She's my little angel girl," Because that's what Val thought the baby was.

Everyone wanted to know about the baby…but no one was curious as to why, when Jeb found an anonymous black card with red lettering reading "_Congratulations"_ why Jeb had gotten sick with panic. Or why he hadn't wanted to hold the baby. No one even batted an eye.

_Don't get attached. _

Jeb refused to. He wouldn't get attached. He refused to. It didn't matter that Maximum had Val's eyes and Jeb's fingers. _He would not love this baby._ It was mostly because he didn't _want _to love the child, when he knew he couldn't keep her. He didn't want to feel regret.

But it was also, in the back of his mind, Jeb believing that Maximum wasn't entirely human. Maybe Fang had changed her – because he wanted a baby suitable to live in hell. He was always watching his daughter out of the corner of his eyes, looking for something unnatural in her.

But as his only daughter grew, her eyes were always wide and brown and innocent. She was healthy and normal – better than normal. She was brave and smart for her age. She had quite the mouth on her, sarcastic and stubborn. Max saw things in black and white, without any in between. But she was beautiful. Like her mother.

And though he would never allow himself to love this child, he had come to care for her. He doubted he ever had a choice in the matter.

Which is why, when Max turned sixteen he was petrified. He knew their time with her was up and he knew he could do nothing to stop it. He'd made a deal. And if Jeb went back on that, there was no telling what Fang would do. He might kill him. He might kill Valencia.

He still valued his wife over his daughter. No matter what. It was horrible, but it was true.

So, on her sixteenth birthday – after his daughter's friends with the strange names had gone home – he was not surprised to find a note addressed to him on his nightstand.

Jeb had hoped, naïvely perhaps, that maybe Fang had forgotten Max. Hoped maybe the devil would take pity on Jeb and let him keep her. But there was no point in hoping, was there, when you had betrayed everything you believed in for one chance?

_We made a deal. Take her to _DuMort_, _was all the note said.

What would Valencia say?

**_X_**

Jeb wasn't a great dad, but he was a dad.

Some people didn't have a dad at all. Or parents or friends. And Max had all three, so she didn't really mind that Jeb sucked as a fatherly figure. She wasn't going to mope around, crying about how daddy didn't love her only to have trust issues when she hit her midlife crisis. Nope. So not happening.

But when Jeb had decided to take his _minor _daughter to _Vegas_, a place full of gambling and drinking and strippers, the phrase "Jeb wasn't a great dad" turned into a massive understatement.

What was he _thinking?_ Max was too young to do all the crazy stupid stuff you're _supposed_ to do when you come to Vegas. And she'd probably end up sitting in the hotel room, bored, and wishing she was home.

But when Max had tried pointing this out to mom, she'd sighed. "He's trying to connect to you. Give him a chance, sweetie, and at least try to have fun."

Well _fine_. Max would go. But she wouldn't have fun. So there.

Apart from what Max had seen in the Hangover trilogy and CSI, she didn't know what Las Vegas really looked like.

And, to be frank, it looked like a shit ton of lights. It had taken her eyes several minutes to get used to it. But what did she expect when it was almost midnight on a Friday? The whole place was bound to be lit up like a Christmas tree. But past the blindness, it was kind of amazing.

But the cabbie had acted weird. Jeb had given him the address of the hotel they were staying at and he had looked baffled. "That place has been abandoned for twenty some years now,"

But Jeb insisted, and shortly after we'd pulled up to a clearly _not_ abandoned four star hotel. Their driver was so shocked he didn't even notice when Jeb "forgot" to tip him.

Pushing past the revolving door, Jeb paused scanning the lobby.

"Who're you looking for?"

"What?" Jeb blinked down at her. "Oh. No one, sweetie."

Tracing her eyes back to where Jeb had been looking, Max frowned. She could have sworn someone had just ducked into the other room when he saw them. "You sure?"

"Hey, Max, why don't I go check in while you explore?" Jeb fished in his pockets for some cash and handed her a twenty.

"_Okaay_…when does the father-daughter bonding start?" Max questioned, but Jeb was already half way across the lobby towards the check-in line.

Max scoffed. Jeb wasn't a great dad. He wasn't even a good one. "Whatever."

Miss Maximum Batchelder's exploring consisted of discovering that hotel_ DuMort_ had three restaurants, all of which had a bar and two that had an all you can eat buffet. Good to know. It also had two swimming parks, three lounging areas, seven shops, four ballrooms, three elevators, one massive casino, one arcade-like-casino for minors like herself, and a total of 678 suites.

_And_ there was a list of activities set up by management for kids like her. How thoughtful. There was a party tonight in the _D'or_ Ballroom for kids fourteen and up. Max decided she might check it out later. It beat watching game-show reruns.

_Four lounging areas_, Max corrected herself, stumbling past a man-made water fall built into yet another one.

"Are you lost?" A voice whispered in her ear.

Max gasped, spinning. But it was just some guy. _A cute guy_, her inner-Nudge told her. And it was true – he had messy black hair that stopped just past his ears and dark mysterious eyes. He was taller than Max was - which was saying something - and had flawless tan skin. He looked like a super model.

He also looked like the type of person her mother would have told her to stay away from.

Max blinked at him, stepping back... "No. I was just…exploring."

The boy in front of her smiled, strangely enough. "Exploring huh? Have you seen everything yet?"

"Um, yeah."

"You sure?" he asked, making to sit in one of the leather chairs next to the indoor pond. Max followed, sitting across next to him.

"Yes." Max insisted.

"I bet I know somewhere you'd never find on your own."

Max flicked her eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

"It's an invitation. Do you want to see it with me?"

Caught off guard, Max muttered an, "I don't know…Are you gonna tell me what it is first?"

He leaned in close. Very close. Too damn close. "Nope. It's a surprise."

Without another word, Max shot to her feet and out the lounge. _Who the hell was this kid?_ _What a creep._

From nowhere, a hand shot out and grabbed Max's wrists, spinning her around for her to come face to face with the guy from before.

"_Let go."_ Max hissed, trying to wrench away her hand. She was trying not to cause a scene, but pair of old ladies exiting a gift shop were already watching them, seeing if there was any trouble.

The boy blinked at her ferocity, but his fingers slipped from around her wrist. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

That wasn't an apology. Max scoffed. "You didn't scare me."

"You sure? Is that why you ran away like a bat out of hell?"

"Shut up," Max snapped, and when he grinned at her vehemence Max wanted to smack him.

"If you want to prove you're not scared of me, come with me to this place I found."

Max didn't have to prove anything to this guy. She wasn't scared – but still, Max frowned, he was taller than she was and faster than she was, and no doubt stronger. She wouldn't want to be alone with him.

As if guessing her thoughts he said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't even know you. I don't even know your name."

"My name is Fang." _What poor kid gets stuck with a name like _that_? Yikes._ "And yours is Max."

Max tensed. "How'd you know that?"

Fang pointed. "It's on your necklace."

Max clutched her engraved necklace protectively. "Well, _Fang,_ why are you being so…" _Friendly._

"Maybe you're just the type of person people want to get friendly with."

This was too weird. "To be honest, this seems like a major stranger danger moment."

He leaned in close again, but this time Max refused to run away even as he whispered into her ear, "Are you scared?"

"I said no," Max snapped. "And besides, I couldn't go to your little secret hideout, even if I wanted to."

"Why not?" He demanded through a surprisingly clenched, "Got a hot date tonight?"

Max was livid._ "No_."

He smirked. "Do you want one?"

Max snorted in a very unlady like way. "I hope you don't mean yourself."

"But of course. What do you say?"

"I can't. I have dinner with my dad. Not that it's any of your business."

Tossing this back and forth through his head, Fang considered this. He had to get her alone. "There's a party tonight. In one of the ballrooms."

"So?"

"_So_…you should come. It's the least you could do since you rejected me twice already."

"…I don't know."

"C'mon…" Fang teased, leaning close and said in a sing-song voice, "There's gonna be booze." Max stared. "…but if that's not your thing there will also be music. And dancing. Free food."

_Okay…so maybe it did sound a little tempting._

"Fine."

"Fine what?"

"Fine, I'll come. But only for a half hour. That's it. Then I'm leaving."

"Great. See you there."

Max sighed – why has she agreed to that? Max called after his retreating figure Max "I better not regret this!"

"You won't!" Fang didn't even turn to look at her.

"And no funny stuff!"

_"Scouts honor." _Fang whispered darkly, even though no none could hear him.

_X_

When Max turned up at the hotel room, it looked as if Jeb forgot he even had a daughter.

"Max," He'd sputtered. "You're still _here_."

He had been so sure Fang would have snatched her up while she was wandering through the hotel. No doubt he knew they were here. But his daughter had come back, and was staring at him furiously.

"_Yeah._ And really upset that you forgot about dinner. I was waiting at the restaurant for a half hour!"

Jeb looked panicked. "I – I'm so sorry, sweetie. I completely forgot."

"Obviously."

"I grabbed something to eat from the buffet and…I'm sorry, Max. I could order you room service if you'd like…"

"Forget it," Max sighed. "I was invited to this party thing by some guy with black hair. I'll just grab something to eat there,"

_Black hair. _It had to be him, Jeb knew, it had to be. This was the last time Jeb would see her.

Jeb nodded, and before his daughter could slam the door in his face he grabbed her arm and hugged her. Max was too startled to do anything. When was the last time he had hugged her? Max didn't know.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Jeb said in her ear. "About everything."

Stepping away slowly, Max paused. "…It's okay, dad. It's really okay."

"Goodbye, Max."

"Yeah. Bye, dad."

What the fuck? Was Jeb having an apoplectic fit? Max punched in an elevator button and stepped inside. There were forty-six floors, but forty-seven buttons. To humor herself, Max pressed the bottom button, the only one without a number, but nothing happened. It didn't even light up.

Stepping out into the lobby, Max recounted the way to the _D'or _ballroom. Even if she hadn't remembered, the blaring music coming from two ceiling tall doors would have been a clue. The doors were shaking, rattled with vibrations from the music_. _Pealing open the door, Max started.

Fang hadn't mentioned this was going to be a rave, but that's obviously what it was. Rainbow strobe lights and exploding balls of silver were flitting across the once grand ballroom, the entire place smelled like cheap beer and something that probably wasn't legal. It sounded like dubstep and stomping feet. It looked like hell.

There were so many people it was hard to walk without being bumped or shoved or pushed to the floor. Max doubted that Fang guy was even here. He'd probably forgotten, like Jeb. And even if he was here, there is no way Max would find him. It was probably for the best.

People came at Max like a fluorescent tidal wave coming at her from all sides. She had no idea where she was being pushed, and instead of finding the exit Max found herself at a bar.

Seeing a startled and wide eyed girl, the bar tender took pity on her, shoving a glass of God-knows what at her. "On the house,"

"Thank you…" Max sipped the drink nervously, her hands shaking and nearly dropped the cup when one of the disco looking balls overhead exploded and shed drops of metallic all over Max and surrounding people. They cheered. Max did not.

God, she was _covered_ in this stuff. It was all over her new jacket, and when Max bent her head she felt drops of it fall from her hair and down her face like silver tears, pooling at the corners of her mouth.

"What is this stuff?" Max shouted to the bartender, but over the roar of the crowd she still sounded faint to his ears.

He chuckled, seeing her doused appearance. He winked at her. "Magic."

Was that some kind of secret code? Was it slang for something? Max had no idea. She licked her dry lips, tasting something she wasn't familiar with. Sour but sweet. Wiping it away with her sleeve, she scanned the crowd looking for an escape – but something was very wrong with her vision.

Her eyes moved too fast, or not fast enough, Max wasn't sure. But either way, the crowd and surroundings blurred together like the stroke of a paintbrush and the details of them all were lost to her. The colors of the people smeared to create new ones. The annoying random beats blaring from the amps slowed, becoming clearer and softer. Max couldn't feel the ground anymore, but instead of feeling panicked she felt calm and liberated.

She moved toward the crowd, ignoring the faint voice in her head that was telling her no. She wanted to join them. They looked happy. Max wanted to be happy too.

She spun, faster and faster until when she opened her eyes she could see nothing but streaks of colors surrounding her. But in the center of her vision, there was a spot without any color. Instead it was all darkness.

Max stopped spinning, squinting her eyes to focus on the dark spot. Inking through the crowd, like a shadow come to life, was...that boy. From earlier. He was striding through the crowd toward her looking dark and determined.

"Fang!" Max said, finally remembering his name.

He didn't stop to say hello. "I need show you something."

_No_. she wanted to say at first. _I'm here, isn't that enough?_ But these thoughts were tugged from her mind as he took her hand and lead her through the crowd with impossible steadiness.

Max was aware of Fang pulling her through the tall doorway. She felt his hand on her waist, steadying her when she tripped as the elevator door slid shut. Fang pressed the button without the number, which Max vaguely remembered thinking was odd, before the thing plunged downwards.

She saw her own reflection in the mirror ceiling. She looked wild, disorientead. Max giggled hysterically at a thought she had - Jeb was gonna be _so_ mad.

Fang was so close. She was practically his already. Her laughter caused him to look up from his feet, up at her. She was staring at herself in the mirrored ceiling, wiping away the silvery liquid.

Fang almost smiled. "I guess you know this stuff isn't just glitter,"

"What is it?"

He reached out, wiping away a drop of painted metal that had stuck to her cheek. His thumb came away silver. "It has certain properties than can mimic the effects of being..."

The alleged angel girl blinked at him. "...high?" Fang nodded. She was starting to get worried, he knew. "Where're we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"The same surprise you wanted to show me earlier?"

"Yes."

Max gripped the support railing suddenly. She wasn't supposed to be doing this, was she? Was there something wrong with this, with him? There was something seriously wrong with all this.

"I...I don't think I'm supposed to be doing this."

"You don't really have a choice."

What? What did he say? "Why are you taking me there?"

Fang looked at her hard. He didn't look friendly and flirtatious anymore. "Because I had to collect a debt that someone owes me."

That was a terrible surprise. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything, little angel girl." Fang told her and though Max's head was reeling she was conscious enough to know the elevator door had opened. "You're_ mine_ now."

**_X_**

**Wow. I will most likely not be writing that much for a single chapter again – but I had to get the expedition out there from Jeb's POV and I hope you don't' hate me for that! And I wanted to portray Fang as a darker, sketchier guy but he was just too cute when he was being all flirty, am I right?**

**He might not be like that next chapter! But I will focus more on Max & Fang together! **

***Schadenfreude is a German word that doesn't translate into English. It means to take pleasure from someone else's pain or misfortune.**

**Also, personally I think that the title of this fic is lame but I couldn't think of anything better so sorry!**

**REVIEW PLEASE.**


	2. Dark and Light

Summary: Through an unfortunate turn of events, Max falls into the hands of a man who is not only evil in every sense of the word but hell bent on burning down the world if it meant keeping her safe. But all Max wants to do is get away from him. But will that change?

Disclaimers: I don't own Maximum Ride and this story in no way reflects the views of fanfiction or my religion and I'm not trying to offend anyone.

**Thanks for the review you guys! Really means a lot, and I just hope I can keep up whatever you guys like about my story. I'll try and update as often as possible, I promise. **

**I also apologize in advance because Fang might lose some of his fluffy cuteness in this chapter. But what did you expect? He's evil. **

**_Dark and Light_**

It was after Max drifted in and out of sleep several times before she realized she was in a stranger's bed. _Shit_, Max thought disgusted with herself. _Shit._ But no, nothing could have happened – Max couldn't possibly have…done that because she was still dressed from what she wore the other night, even her sneakers. Nothing had happened, thank God.

Sitting up more, Max tried to guess whose bedroom she was in. The space, painted a deep red, was bare of except the essential furnishings; bed, nightstands, desk. There were no pictures or books to give an idea of whose room it was.

Pushing away the heavy comforter and the black dots that brushed past Max's eyelids, she realized that her skin felt tight with each movement, where the drops of metallic from last night had dried.

Max paused, remembering. Certain properties, he'd said. _What the hell kind of "certain properties" did this stuff have_ _if she could hear colors after just a few drops?_ Max thought dazed, but then. _Fang._

This was his room, Max realized. Was it possible she was still at _DuMort_? Had she passed out on him and, not knowing where to take her, he'd left her to sleep in hotel suite? It was possible. But where was he now?

Reaching the sliding glass door which lead to the balcony overlooking the city, Max stared. She had only seen Las Vegas at night briefly, where it was all lit up, but…how could night and day make such a difference to the point it didn't even look like it was from the same country?

The answer was simple. It couldn't.

She was still in _DuMort,_ Max was sure of it. But she wasn't in the same city. But how could that be? This was all wrong. Not until Max shifted through the hazy memories from last night of Fang and the elevator, did it click. "You don't have a choice," he'd said. "You're mine," he'd said.

Had he…kidnapped her? Yes. There was no other excuse for his behavior but… _why?_ Why would he do this? _What could he possibly…_Max didn't finish that thought. She couldn't believe this shit. Why did the crappy stuff always happen to her?

_See, mom,_ _that's the kind of shit that happens when you make me go bond with Jeb! _Max would say when she got out of this mess. And she _would_ get out of this; it should be easy. Fang must have taken her phone, but Max had an idea. She was alone. No one was stopping her. She just had to get down to the lobby, call Jeb, and alert the police.

Only it wasn't quite that simple.

After easing open one of the three doors – the other two had been a bathroom and walk in closet – Max froze, realizing her abductor had actually posted guards outside her door. Luckily, this one – dressed in an oversized black trench coat with a pinched rat like face - was slumped against the golden wallpaper, half asleep.

_What kind of seventeen year old has henchmen? _She couldn't help but wonder as she slipped past him making her way to the elevator. The lobby was swarmed with short men, similar in a rodent-like appearance and to the snoozing guard. _What kind of seventeen year old has an _army_ of henchmen?_

She'd find out later. Right now her priority was slipping past all of them without getting caught…she'd have to contact Jeb somewhere other than the lobby. There was no way Fang had an entire hotel at his disposal, but it was just as unlikely the lady at the front desk was on Max's side.

First things first, Max would have to make it out of the lobby. Maybe she'd get lucky and run into a pair of cops parked in the streets. Her dad must have alerted the authorities by now; mom must have been contacted and sick with worry.

_DuMort_'s lobby was as elegant looking as ever, with cream pillars rising up from marble floors to meet a handcrafted painting of cherubs on the ceiling. Only…the cupids looked different. Their skin was almost gray, with slitted eyes, and the wings looked like those of…well, bats.

As one of the rat looking body guards passed Max's hiding spot with a packed luggage cart, she ducked behind it and followed its trail, getting off and shuffling her body so it couldn't be seen behind the pillar. _Okay. I run for the door in three…two...o- _

"Hey, is she awake yet?" A voice croaked, from the other side of the pillar with an oddly upstate East accent. A second voice answered no, she wasn't. They had to be talking about her. Max pressed her spine to the pillar, trying to hear better.

"She's been passed out for two days already. I doubt she'll ever wake up."

_Two days!_ How was that possible? It felt like only hours. This was probably better for her, Max knew, everyone had to be looking for her, it had to be all over the news. But it was still concerning.

"Hey, Mickey, what do you think 'e wants with her?"

"Who? The boss?" Mickey asked.

"No! The queen o' England! Of course I mean the boss, stupid!"

Mickey paused. "Oh. Dunno. Maybe e's lookin' for a girl."

"Nah. She's probably just his latest whore."

The Mickey voice snickered, while Max was frozen. "Yeah. Just a plaything. A pretty one, too. I tell ya, if I ever got her alone, I'd…"

Knowing Max never would have made it to the door with the two men standing right there, Max was forced to listen to their conversation, Goosebumps ripping over her skin in disgust. When Max contacted the police, she would make sure they also did an investigation on this Mickey guy to see if he was a pedophile. Jesus.

Being sixteen is so great, Max thought dryly. Like really. What a great year this is turning out to be.

When the conversation died, and the perverts were gone, Max counted to three again, and burst through the revolving door. She heard shouts of "Hey!" behind her, but she didn't look back. She charged through a business people, knocking a man over but not stopping to apologize. She wasn't sure if she was being chased, but she wasn't slowing down to find out. She had to put more distance in between her and the hotel.

Skyscrapers plunged from out of the ground from every corner, and in spaces in between cars lined up in continuous strips. Even though traffic was the least of Max's worries, she glanced over to see what the problem was. And blinked in surprise. That was the worst car accident she'd ever seen.

Ten cars, at least, were all piled up into a pyramid the middle of the intersection. You couldn't tell where one car ended and the next began, more surprising than that though was there were no police, no ambulances. The traffic continued to honk impatiently, like this was something that happened every day, and buzzards of people J-Walked through the streets, looking bored.

What the hell kind of city was this? Slowing her run to a walk after two more blocks, Max paused to catch her breath. There was a man, in a gray hoodie and slumped against the back of a brick restaurant, pausing for a smoke.

Max frowned. This city was huge; it could take hours to find the police station. Searching block after block until the city was dark wasn't a very tempting proposition. "Um, excuse me, sir?" She said to the man.

He raised his bent head, blowing a puff of smoke her way and staring at her.

Max coughed. "I believe I've been kidnapped. I'm far from home and I was wondering if you could show me the way to the police station?"

He looked her up and down, before showing a mostly toothless smile. "Sure."

Max smiled uneasily, following him down the sidewalk as they headed south, where less people were milling about. The buildings got smaller, the dark alley's in between them growing. Mom used to say it was gentlemanly, walking close to the rode with the lady furthest from it, because dirt wouldn't splash onto her. Max supposed that's what this man was doing now, until they walked past the space between buildings and he shoved her inside.

"Hey!" Max shouted, trying to scramble to her feet. But the toothless man kicked her in the stomach, hard.

"Hey, boys!" He shouted into the space somewhere behind Max. "I got something."

Turning to see who he could possibly be speaking to, Max saw ten or so boys, looking no older than twenty, all pausing in there drinking to watch her.

One of them was headed straight toward her. He snatched her by her hair before she could kick him away, and dragged her with him, deeper into the alley. He shoved her away, up against the filthy brick wall, but his hands were back in a second, this time on her neck. "Hey, pretty thing, what's your name?"

Max wheezed, her ribs sore. _I can't answer if I can't breathe, asshole. _

He wrinkled his nose in disgust - _You're not too pretty to look at either, buddy._ – And pressed her into the cold ground. Max tried pushing him away, and he frowned before laughing when he discovered he could easily overpower her by pinning her wrists.

Then Max kicked him. _Really_ hard. In a _really_ sensitive place. She felt triumphant for minute, when he howled like a child. But then her head snapped back with the force of the blow he gave her. Max tried to get up again, but the other guys were on her in seconds, holding down her arms andshoulders _and_ her legs.

The boy Max had kneed, seemed to recover. He hit her across the face. Then again. One more time when Max tried to spit on him. The two other boys that were standing took turns hitting her for good measure. "Stop!" Max yelled, trying not to wince. It hurt to breathe.

"Knock her unconscious," One of the boys holding her down said. "She's gonna fight otherwise."

What the hell were they going to do to her? Max struggled with more force, but it became increasingly hard. Especially since the boy who'd just spoken gripped her hair and slammed it down into the earth and the world seemed to be getting darker, her eyes heavier.

The boy on top of her, was trying to take off her jacket. "Stop it." Max rasped, but she couldn't fight off the darkness anymore. Her eyes were closing, when she saw Fang.

He was standing at the opening of the alley, watching the scene before him, his eyes murderous and dark. Max must have been hallucinating, because she could have sworn right before her eyes closed, she saw his hands blazing. Fire licked up his leather jacket as he approached them, the boys trying to take Max completely unsuspecting as he approached them.

Max passed out.

**_X_**

Max had seen a cartoon once, where a talking coyote was trying to catch a different animal with some insane elaborate machine that he'd designed himself. But it never worked, and then he'd say, "Back to the old drawing board," with this crazy hopeless look in his eye that was supposed to be funny, and then he'd try again.

Now Max knew how the coyote felt. Because when she woke up, on the same king-sized bed she had that morning, with her wrists tied to the bedpost behind her head, for a wild second she felt like she should just give up. She'd tried to escape once now and it had almost gotten her killed, _or worse._

It hadn't been worth it, obviously, because she was now stuck in the same position she had that morning. Except now she was hurt, to the point where it was painful to breathe, and she was tied. Literally.

"Fuck," Max slammed her head down against the bed, hopelessly, as if that could solve her problems.

"Glad to see you're awake." The voice was eerie and instantly familiar. Max jumped in surprise, and the tight grip on her wrist dug painfully into her skin, restraining her.

Fang was staring at the foot of the bed, watching Max intently. He no longer looked dangerously flirty and mysterious. His jaw was set so that if looked if he tried to unclench it, it would fall off and his eyes held an anger than was trying not to be seen. Max saw it anyway.

"What do you want?" Max raised her chin, not wanting to feel intimidated by his height. "Why am I here?"

Fang barked a laugh. "Isn't it obvious?"

Max refused to dignify that with a response. He was laughing at her, and she was tired of it. She already felt like an idiot. She should have stayed away from him. She knew that he was trouble, that he was dangerous. Fat lot of good regrets did her now though. She needed to focus.

Maybe he wanted to use Max as a ransom? It made sense. Her family wasn't filthy rich or anything, but they were well off. Besides...he certainly didn't _look_ like one of those rapists from those specials on E! network, which was the only other explanation as to why he would kidnap her.

Not until he was next to her, on her left side, did she realize he had moved. She was glaring at him ferociously, but he paid her no mind, not even as his finger ran down her neck and over her torso until it reached the hem of her shirt. Max tried to kick at him with her untied legs when he pulled it up, revealing her battered and bruised stomach, but he held her feet with his other hand.

The hand that had tugged up Max's shirt was now running his fingers over her bruises. It was hard for Max to tell from this angle, but it looked like the bruise painted over her entire stomach; a hideous painting of green, yellow, and purple.

His thumb was stroking one of her ribs. "Get off!" Max said gruffly, struggling against the ropes and his hands. He glanced at her, his eyes holding a wicked gleam. And before Max could tell him to stop whatever he was about to do, he was doing it.

His hand cobwebbed over her entire stomach, his thumb and pinky both touching opposite sides of her ribs. Then he pressed down, digging into the swollen flesh until Max had no choice but to cry out. Even when she did, he didn't stop. He let her writhe under his grip, his other hand preventing her from bringing her legs up into a protective ball.

"Stop!" Max cried finally, and to her surprise, he did.

The pain was still intense, so much that it was hard to breathe, but it was less.

Fang had shoved his hand in his pockets, looking nonchalant even as he towered over the wheezing girl through slitted eyes. "You have two broken ribs and a few major cuts and bruises. Nothing to get so worked up about."

_He's fucking crazy._

"Why did you kidnap me? Why am I here? Where even are we? "Max had more questions, oh she had plenty, but speaking hurt too much

"That's nothing you need to worry about. And as for your first question, you're here because I want you to be."

"That's the shittiest reason in the world," Max told him, feeling dizzy. Had he drugged her?

"And that was the shittiest escape attempt I've ever seen. Speaking of which…" Fang reached for her neck, cutting her air supply. "Don't you _dare_ ever try to run away again. You're _not _getting away from me, understand?"

Max tried to rasp out a _Go to hell_ even though – _duh_ – she couldn't breathe. Stars started to dance over her eyes. Fang was obviously not impressed, seeing as the hand that wasn't at Max's neck then plummeted down onto her ribs.

Max tried – and failed – releasing the pain from her body in the form of some sort of noise, but only choking sounds came out.

"Do you understand?" he screamed.

_No._ Max wanted to say. _No, I don't understand. I don't' understand why you're doing this to me. You can't control me, you can't keep me here. You just can't. No. No. No. _But instead, "Yes."

He grinned sadistically. "Good."

_Why are you doing this?_ Was the question on Max's mind, but it was too pathetic a question. Even for her.

For an insane moment, Max thought she saw Fang's eyes soften in sympathy. But she was wrong.

"There are clothes in the closet for you. If you're hungry, I'll bring you food. You're aloud anywhere on this floor, but the everywhere in the hotel is off limits." He wasn't even looking at her now, as her temper flared. He was treating her like a _pet. _As if hearing these thoughts, he grinned. And to spite her, he continued. "When you start to behave yourself I'll untie you."

Max was beyond furious, her face turning red in anger. "Don't talk to me like that."

Fang scoffed. He could talk to her however he liked. "Like what?"

"Like I'm a freaking animal!"

Fang leaned in close to her, knowing how it set her on edge. "If you don't like it, maybe you should quit acting like one."

Max tried to kick at him, but he leaned back, out of reach. He laughed at her.

She'd had _quite _enough of that. He had turned his back on her, heading for the door, when Max screamed. "You can't keep me here!"

Fang leaned against the door frame. "Oh, yes, Max. I really can."

**_X_**

And Fang _would_ keep her here. He'd waited a decade and a half for this girl. And though time moved quickly in the Underworld –two days here, could be two months on mortal Earth – it had seemed like a torturous eternity.

He'd watched her grow from hell. Whenever the baby girl he'd agreed to take as payment crossed his mind – which had been surprisingly often – he'd go and watch her, through the mirror, and he'd always be surprised when he saw she wasn't a baby anymore.

Sometimes he'd even send her things. Never anything much – sometimes he'd have a note appear in her desk in grade school and if he remembered her birthday, he'd send a card, signing it as her great uncle.

And then he'd realize that what he was doing was disgusting –_ him_ having a school boy crush on some _mortal_ girl. It was repulsive.

It had crossed his mind many times that he should just leave the girl alone; that he should not collect the dept. Jeb owed him. Let the girl grow old amongst the humans like she was supposed to. It was what she deserved.

But she also deserved better than a father who did not love her and did not want to. Jeb had not wanted her when Valencia was dying, and even now – though he told himself otherwise – Fang knew he still didn't want a daughter. Oh, sure Jeb felt_ shame_, for being such a disgusting excuse for a human being, and told himself it was caring. But it was not.

Besides…there was a reason Fang had chosen to take her on her sixteenth birthday. It was because she might not have made it to her seventeenth otherwise.

So Fang would collect the girl, because he was punishing Jeb, because Fang refused to not take payment, and because he was protecting her.

Besides, Max was fascinating.

He did not think he had ever seen a human behave the way she did – she called things how she saw them. Her opinion of people were often as blunt as, "You're my friend." And "You're not." She labeled things as good and bad. Dark and light. She treated others how they deserved.

Which is why, Fang knew, with the way she was treating him now, that he deserved it.

**_X_**

**Booooom. I like that ending. Okay, so Fang was a jerkface. Yes. But I tried to redeem him, a little, with his POV toward the end. Watcha think? Don't hate him too soon okay? I'll try and fix it!**

**Also, if you guys have any requests that you want to see happen, like ways for Max to slowly but surely come around to Fang, lemme know! I'll try and make it happen!**

**REVIEW PLEASE. **


	3. Blind Phrophet

**Thanks for the reviews guys!**

**But here's the deal. I'm starting to get writer's block, slowly but surely. I have a vague idea of what's going to happen but I'm not positive. So if you have any suggestions or requests, to like help me make character devolvement, I suggest you tell me!**

**Summary: Through an unfortunate turn of events, Max falls into the hands of a man who is not only evil in every sense of the word but hell bent on burning down the world if it meant keeping her safe. But all Max wants to do is get away from him. But will that change?**

**Disclaimers: I don't own Maximum Ride and this story in no way reflects the views of fanfiction or my religion and I'm not trying to offend anyone.****  
**

**_Blind Prophet_**

As hard as it is to believe, Valencia wasn't very pleased when she discovered her teenage daughter was missing through the eight o'clock news. After the initial shock and denial had worn off, she'd called Jeb up, while he was interviewing with the police.

"Excuse me, it's my wife," Jeb told the officer, in a hushed voice. "Val, I was in the middle of a conversati – "

"_Jeb Batchelder! _Don't you _**dare**_ tell me you were in the middle of a conversation, when my baby is missing!"

"Val, this is why I didn't want to tell you – "

"You didn't want to tell me that my only daughter was _missing!?_ That she was _kidnapped?!" _Valencia screamed through the line, and Jeb honestly believed if he weren't half way across the country, she'd be strangling him. "That she is out there right now, scared and alone, going through God knows what! And do you know that most kidnapped children are… are _dead_ within the first eight hours!"

Max was certainly not dead. She may not be in the best hands, Jeb knew, but she wasn't dead. "Val, I'm interviewing with the police right now, I'm telling them everything I can."

"And just what exactly is that?"

Jeb rattled off the story as it had happened. Including the details of the miscommunications with dinner and the boy with the black hair. There was no point in lying, when the truth itself couldn't have Jeb pinned for the disappearance of his daughter. He was safe.

Valencia was sobbing now, sounding hysterical. "Oh, my God. Max. My poor, poor angel. She didn't even want to go – I shouldn't have forced her. It's my entire fault. My poor Maxie."

"Val – "

"Don't call me that! I swear to God, Jeb, if Max doesn't come home – "Val didn't finish the threat, her voice choked on the word 'home' and the line went dead.

A heart was strangling Jeb's heart. His poor Valencia. She was in so much pain. Jeb looked up from his phone, only to see everyone in the police department within ten feet staring at him. They had all heard the conversation with Val.

"Excuse me," A second police officer said to Jeb, "Did your wife say that you didn't tell her your daughter was missing?"

Jeb frowned. "Yes." What did that matter?"

The officer glanced at his partner. "D'you find that a little odd, Jim?"

"Looks suspicious to me." Jim said, watching Jeb as if he expected him to make a run for it. Please.

Jeb had expected this. He wasn't an idiot. Max had been obsessed with those CSI shows, and Jeb had seen enough of them to get a good idea of the way police men thought. Jeb was the last one to see Max. He brought Max miles away from home, where it was impossible for her to get home on her own. It _was _suspicious looking. And with good reason.

Though Jeb was the most likely suspect, he wasn't worried because technically he was not to blame. Fang, as far as the record shows, didn't even exist. He would be impossible to track, so Max would never be found. Valencia would be crushed, but Jeb would help her through it.

But Jeb had to play the part – he had to behave as though he were shocked,_ outraged_, that they could think he had anything to do with his baby girl's disappearance. "You – you can't possibly think I had anything to do with this!"

"Sir, calm down. We're just going to take you in back for a little questioning." The first officer said.

Jeb feigned a look of regaining composure, and stiffly followed the policemen into a small room. They gestured for Jeb to sit in a small chair, where countless guilty parties had sat before him, and they sat in theirs across.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" This Jim fellow asked. He clearly had no intention of getting a possibly guilty murderer a bottle of water, so Jeb said no.

"Let's just get on with it," Jeb sighed.

And they did – asking him dozens of questions like, "You didn't think it was suspicious that your teenage daughter was going to a party with a boy you didn't know?" And, "Did your daughter mention any other details about what this boy looked like?" They had Jeb retell the story he'd told Valencia several times, checking for changes. But there were none. Jeb had it memorized.

"Alright." The nameless officer said finally. "We'll check over the security tapes at _DuMort _and get back to you."

"Thank you. Call me if you have any more questions, please."

"Oh, I will." He said, squinting at Jeb, making Mr. Batchelder pause.

After all that, they still thought Jeb to be guilty. He had to try and fix it. Had seemed sympathetic. "Do you…do you think Max is okay? Do you think she's still alive, I mean."

He was watching Jeb thoughtfully. "Sir, do you know what _Du Mort_ means?"

"I don't," Jeb admitted, at a lost. "Why?"

"No reason. You have a good day now."

**_X_**

After being on edge for days, Max finally got bored. It sounded terrible, but it was true. How could she be expected to just lay around, with nothing to do but wait, while this psycho had her at his disposal? He never came for her, despite his promises, to hurt her or untie her or even feed her. Eventually her heart beat slowed, the adrenaline stopped, and she got tired of sitting in one position. She got used to it. She got bored.

She wondered if her friends new she was missing yet. Probably. What had it been, a week now? The police had to be tracing Max. They had to have solved this crazy teleporting hotel mystery, and when Max was found she wanted to know how Fang had done it.

If she was found, that is. Max wasn't deluded; people went missing every day and were never found. Mom would say most kidnapped children were murdered in the first twenty-four hours. But Max hadn't been. She was still alive. If Fang hadn't hurt her yet – _seriously_ hurt her, that is – then he wouldn't.

Which brought Max to another problem; motive. Why was he doing this? It wasn't a desperate beg anymore, at least not in Max's mind; it was a just a question. Why go through the trouble of kidnapping her if he didn't seem to be interested in her or her wellbeing in the slightest? It was baffling.

She wanted to ask him, but he never showed. Whether it had been twenty hours or twenty days, her kidnapper didn't return. This seemed especially cruel, because now Max was bored and without anyone to talk to.

Because think about it; Max couldn't leave. Being still tied up, she wasn't even allowed to roam throughout the room. She was isolated from her friends and parents - Fang had taken her phone and there was no TV in the room. No contact from outside these four walls. Because of Fang, Max's world was entirely centered around him.

And he couldn't even be bothered to visit her. Rationally, she knew this was a good thing. If he wasn't here, it gave her time to think of an escape. If he wasn't here, he couldn't hurt her. But still.

Max snorted, without humor. How screwed up in the head was she?

When Max woke, Fang was leaning over her reaching towards something above her head. And there was a knife in his hand.

Max screamed. Surprised, Fang drew back quickly. He'd thought she was asleep. He raised an eyebrow at her shaking form, and seeing the familiar look in his eye Max snapped. "I'm not scared!"

"Really. You could have fooled me." Fang carefully reached for her fastened fists again, knife in hand. She let out a strangled cry as the blade brush against the blue veins on her wrist when he jerked the knife, cutting away the ropes.

"Relax, okay? I'm done with it. I'm putting it away."

She didn't wait a second more, sitting up as much as she could and cowering to the farthest side of the bed opposite him. Her hands ghosted over the pattern the ropes and traced through her skin, watching him and looking defiant.

"You act like I'm going to eat you alive."

"I wouldn't put cannibalism past you."

Fang smirked, looking her up and down in a single swipe. "Tasty."

Her nose wrinkled, scooting further away. "You're disgusting."

Fang frowned. "I'm not going to hurt you, Max."

Max didn't like the way he said her name. Soft and familiar, like he was trying to help her. Was that what he believed? The two were staring at each other, very different emotions being felt, before Max finally couldn't take not knowing.

"What happened to those guys?"

"What guys?" He paused.

"You know. From before." They both knew that before meant, _From when I tried to escape._ Fang didn't answer her, and her suspicions were half confirmed. "…Did you kill them?"

"No." It was the truth, but not the whole truth. Fang wished he _could_ kill them – seeing what they had tried doing to her. It was disgusting. Fang was no angel, but he would never do that. – But once you're in hell, you can't actually re-kill them. It was a flaw, but Fang managed to work around it. "But there are worse things than death."

She was quiet again, but Fang could practically feel all her questions surfacing through her mind from where he stood. "I know you've got more questions for me."

Max did. But she didn't want to talk to him anymore. How was it possible she was able to actually carry a conversation with this…demon? There were no awkward pauses, only cautious ones. "How long have I been here?"

"How long has it been since I stole you, you man? Five days."

"How are you able to do all this?"

"What? Be this sexy and terrifying at the same time? I've had a lot of practice."

"I _mean_," Max said angrily, "In what world are you living that you have freaking bodyguards parading throughout a hotel? How do you even have your own hotel?"

_In what world? In _my_ world, babe, _Fang was tempted to say, just to get her angry that was too close to the actual truth. He had to lie. "My dad owns a line of hotels. He owns millions."

If this was Gazzy or Sam or one of Max's other guy friends, she would have smirked and said, _So basically you're like a lame Paris Hilton._ But Fang was far from that, so she asked another question. "What city are we in? I know it's not Vegas."

"I can't answer tell you that one. It's a secret."

"I've had enough of your secrets," Max snapped, remembering what he'd said to her when they'd first met. "And why are you keeping me here? And don't give me some shitty answer like 'just because I can.'"

"Why? It's the truth." _Well, part of the truth._

Max growled. "You_ can't_ keep me here."

"Because…?"

"_Because it's illegal!_ Because I have a life, and you can't just take it from me! I have family and friends back home! They've got to be going crazy looking for me!"

Fang did not look unsympathetic. And Max could guess only one reason why. "They…they are looking for me, aren't they?"

"No, Max. They aren't." Her eyes were getting shiny and wet. Fang continued. "They haven't even noticed you're gone."

**_X_**

"Hey have you recovered that security footage yet?" Officer Everett asked his partner.

Jim spun around in his chair. "From the Batchelder case? Yeah. Come watch."

Everett did, leaning over Jim's shoulder and squinting and the fuzzy black and white picture. There was forty eight hours' worth of footage, and him and his partner would have to sort through every second of it.

The glories of policing! The action filled work he had dreamed of as a child. Bah. More like a whole lot of paper work and a whole lot of cases that were often inconclusive.

But Everett refused for that to be the case for this girl.

He'd seen a copy of a photo of the girl the mother had faxed over, the most recent one – taken just the other day at her sixteenth birthday party. She was young and she was pretty and miles away from home. A likely target for any number of criminals outside of bars.

Vegas could be a dangerous city.

And besides that, Everett did not trust the father, that Jeb Batchelder. He knew something, something that could crack this case wide open, and he was hiding it. Of that much, Everett was sure. Jeb was the most likely suspect, the only suspect as of yet, but that might change after watching these tapes.

"Alright," Jim said, breaking his partner away from his plans of justice and the mystery of a life time. He pointed at the tiny screen, his fingers tracing two figures. "Here we have the father and daughter just arriving at the hotel. Daughter goes off, dad checks in." Jim narrated it just as it happened.

"Maximum walks around the hotel for a bit, doesn't speak to anyone for what seems like a good hour or two. _Until,_ this guy." Jim paused the screen. The missing girl had turned, looking surprised and facing a boy about her age. A boy who had black hair. "Think that's him?"

Yes, Everett did. He hit the play button. "Let's find out."

Everything seemed normal. Just two kids flirting, young love and all that. But then the boy got closer, and Max started to bolt. That's when things started looking bad.

The boy was gripping her arm now, keeping her there. Foul play. They were speaking again, Max seemingly cautious now, but there was no way to tell what was being said.

God, Everett wished these tapes had sound.

They fast forwarded through the tapes of Max wondering her way to the restaurant. She stayed there a while but never ate. The dinner Batchelder had missed with his daughter.

Max then, looking furious and tired, stormed back to her hotel room, but left again soon after making her way to the ballroom party.

The security footage of the room's inside showed some definite illegal activity. He would have to look into that later. Max looked like she was watching some bizarre sort of ancient ritual, a scary one at that. Everett narrowed his eyes as she sipped on some kind of beer; she should know better. Then she and surrounding kids were doused with some suspicious looking liquid that rained down from the ceiling.

After plunging into the swarm of people with a dazed and goofy smile on Max's face, the black haired boy approached her, leading her from the room.

"This is it." This is here they find out if Max Batchelder was dead or simply missing. This was where they find her or her body.

"Okay…he's taking her to the elevator." The door closed, and they could both hear the ding of the elevator inside their minds.

"Find out what floor it goes to." Everett demanded, caught up in the anxiety.

"I am! I just…Okay. Here."

Neither of the police blinked, even though what they saw made no sense to them. Because the tapes showed two teenagers getting onto an elevator. But neither of them getting off.

**_X_**

"What do you mean she's still in danger?"

"I didn't say that. I said she _might_ – "

"It doesn't matter! She's _here; _in my domain. Nothing should be able to hurt her if I don't want it too." And Fang didn't want anything hurting her.

"You're domain? Jeez, Fang. What next? An evil laugh? A cape and eye patch?"

The glare Fang sent was lost on him. "Okay. I know you're glaring at me." Maybe not.

"I thought bringing her here would keep her safe. You told me bringing her here would keep her safe."

"Hey, don't blame this on me! I just told you what I saw that night." Fang scowled. "Figuratively speaking, Fang. C'mon. You know what I mean. So don't shoot the messenger."

"Right. Of course. But if bringing her here kept her safe, then why is she still…" Fang couldn't finish his thoughts.

"You know the future changes," His friend told him. "Nothing is definite until it's already happened."

"_I know!"_ Fang's temper flared, and with it so did the blames at his fingertips. He took a breath. "I know. I'm just trying to think of what she's in danger from…"

Fang heard his friend's thoughts, and though the possibility saddened him it didn't faze him. _Maybe you're what she's in danger from._

"You know I wouldn't hurt her. I would never let anything or anyone hurt her. _"Irony's a bitch_. Fang continued his thoughts aloud. "If I would never hurt her, she can't be in danger from me. If no one else here is able to hurt her, she can't be in danger from them either…If nothing here can hurt her, and she's in danger… that means in the future she isn't here. It means she's going to leave."

**_X_**

**Answering questions! Yes, Max will fall in love with Fangles. It's a romance for a reason; I just have to be subtle and sneaky about how I do this so give me time. And a friend? I'm working on it. Can you guess who it is? And the entire flock is…existing in this mythical world. Some are Max's friends from back home, but others might be in Hell. I haven't decided yet.**

**Any suggestions, please put it in the review box. **

**REVIEW PLEASE.**

**P.S. Do you know what the name of the hotel means? I do. Can you guess who's Fang's friend is? I can.**_** But **_**to the first person that can guess which mythology this story is based off of, I'll give them a sneak peak at upcoming chapters. Deal?**


	4. Lungs

**Okay, guys, you got me. I'm busted. **_**DuMort **_**is a brilliant tidbit from the Mortal Instruments. I was inspired by that series (my favorite of all time) and (pay attention, guys, this is the answer) Hades & Persephone for this story, maybe a little Beauty and the Beast as well. Just thought I'd throw it out there.**

**Why haven't I been updating? I was busy, for a while, and then I just didn't feel like it. Then I didn't like the first type up and started over. And then my laptop was acting up. Sorry. **

**And thank you, to the very few who got my Blind Prophet reference. Y'all are just brills. **

**Summary: Through an unfortunate turn of events, Max falls into the hands of a man who is not only evil in every sense of the word but hell bent on burning down the world if it meant keeping her safe. But all Max wants to do is get away from him. Can Fang change that?**

**Disclaimers: I don't own Maximum Ride or any other previous mentioned inspiratory stories. This story in no way reflects the view of fanfiction, the Christian Church, myself, and so on.**

_X_

There wasn't much you could keep the king of hell from doing.

Even if the living had no business being in hell, even if it was an unjustifiably cosmically _wrong,_ Max was still here. Fang wasn't even sure _why_ she was here anymore, or what broken functions had clicked under his skull to make him even wanted her in the first place.

Fang usually tried to keep out of people's thoughts, for his own benefit; nobody else's. But at that goddamn meeting the mortal's thoughts had screamed out to him, two words laced with panic and disgust. _Unborn child._

He knew the workings of minds –a few years at this job will do that to you – and knew his own self to know he hadn't taken the child as a pity case. He was the _devil,_ for hell's sake. It would be a miracle if he still had pity to muster. And never mind that sissy shit about him wanting _company._

Fang swallowed. The thought was just too pathetic.

This job had too many assets to name – girls, sex, drugs, revenge. He could get it all whenever he felt like. But as had Fang skimmed over just those two words in Jeb's minds, a sense of greedy want had ached over him.

The wanting grew to torture – an agony packed into less than two decades as he watched the child cry and smile and laugh, changing and growing into what she was now. Which was Max.

It was like God's hand was choking him, the tangled knot in his throat as he tried to swallow again. The reasons behind Max being here were just as twisted as her being here at all. It was all kinds of wrong.

She was…she was human. Fang could hardly remember _being_ human. But he _needed_ her in the same lost way he once needed air, trapped under the water and unable to breach surface.

It felt like his lungs were burning, hoarse and aching, and he needed to put it out the fire inside his ribs. But of course he knew he couldn't, that it would kill him. He was trying, so hard, to find the air and sunlight ovehead. His lips were locked, arms and legs spasming desperately until his mouth stopped listening and opened, searching for what wasn't there. He tasted black poison, filling and twisting inside him. And he died.

The ghost of that memory made his lungs ache. He needed that air now, and dying wouldn't stop him this time.

He couldn't give her up. Future be damned, he wouldn't let her leave. Whether it was this strange possessive need, or something else, Fang didn't know. He'd rather tear his own useless lungs out.

A twinge of regret bit his side, as his coarse fingers ghosted over his ribs_. She probably doesn't want to see me anyway. _He doubted he'd want to see someone either, if they had crushed _his_ already battered bruises.

Besides, he had work.

It was an incredibly morbid job – keeping Hell's population and punishing it for its favored sin in life. But someone had to do it, and Fang was there to make sure it got done.

There were nine layers of hell – and with each a new grimacing torture. But the level Fang lived on was his favorite; Limbo. There was less pain, more chaos – but Fang could deal. A little darkness, a little suffering: but, hey, it was home.

Sometimes the sinners below could work their way into purgatory – once they got what was coming to them. And like reverse clockwork, Limbo's residents could get tossed into one of the nine layers just as easily. Just because you die doesn't mean you stop sinning.

_It's a good thing boredom isn't a sin_, Fang mused, strolling through his least favorite layer. _Or else Max would be in trouble._

He knew perfectly well, when she wasn't sleeping or eating, she was pacing past the red walls. She'd already taken a look at the rest of the top floor, one of his demons had told him, but there wasn't much to look at. So now she was practically bouncing against her room, itching to get out.

"You can't just lock her up in the hotel like a cage," His friend ran a hand through his orange and blonde singed hair. "She's not a pet."

Fang hated when Iggy was right. But it was _safe_ in the hotel. Hell's citizens couldn't hurt her there – and they would definitely try if they discovered a lifey in their mist. They might kill her, out of jealousy if not just for kicks.

If she died in hell, could she still go to heaven? What would Fang do if she did?

"What would you suggest?" Fang snarled at his best friend, who was walking over the rock and dirt covered road without trouble. Iggy probably knew his way better through hell than Fang himself, blind or not.

Iggy grinned, looking pleased. "I'm _glad_ you asked! Now, picture it: A night on the town. A night of drinking, gambling, and some good old fashioned unadulterated fun. Her in some snazzy little dress, a handsome fellow on her arm…oh, and you can come too."

Fang glared. "You're hilarious. Really. Keep going."

"I'm just trying to service her the crazy night in Vegas she deserves. You know…the one you viciously ripped from her hands." When Fang ignored this, his friend sighed, "She might actually like you if you tried to get to know her; maybe spend some time with her."

"Yeah? And how would you know? You've never even met her; Max doesn't even know you exist."

"I _know _chicks, man. Which is why I know for a damn fact that she's bored out of her fucking mind in that hotel room you locked her up in. All lonely. Probably begging for some company…a friend, of sorts."

Fang spun, glaring at the prophet and trying not to scream. "Iggy. I can't just drop every-fucking- thing for Max."

Iggy blinked. "What? Not you! I meant me. Gosh. Full of yourself, aren't you?"

Fang snorted. "You wanna go be buddy-buddy with her? Sure. Go for it. I doubt she'll like you anymore than me."

"So…is this you saying I can have the day off?"

Pinching the crook of his nose, Fang sighed. "…_fine._ See how she's doing. Go make friends." His gleeful friend had already turned to go, but Fang snatched his shoulder, bringing him back. "But _do not_ tell her about all this."

_All this,_ of course meant, _That I'm the devil. That she's in hell. That everyone here but her is dead. That her dad sold her. _

"Sure, man."

**_X_**

For days now she'd_ wished_ she would dream of home, but every morning when her eyes opened she remembered only blackness. Except last night, still prickling against her subconscious in vivid flashes, was a dream. It was random, but whatever. She'd take it.

Her mother smiling at her in the kitchen, making breakfast, and her forever distant father bowing his head to his coffee across the room. Jeb shooed her off to her grandmother's house, insisting she walk and not take the bus. And then, Max was in the woods. Burning leaves smoked about, and twigs snapped under her naked feet, and she wasn't sure what was going on except that a stranger was smiling at her, wicked and charming and familiar, coaxing her into taking his hand and following him into the city.

"_Oh,"_ Max groaned in shame, tightening herself into a ball as the shower water sleeked over her_. He's everywhere. Even in my head._ It had been a few days since she'd showered, and though she knew she was getting rank, she'd put it off. Like, _what if he had hidden cameras in there?_

But the sliminess coating over her overwhelmed her will, and now she was trying to scrub the feeling away.

It didn't help.

Her hair curtained over her shoulders and bent head, curling and streaming in the way she liked, like it never did when it was dry. It did nothing to improve her mood, though.

It was just a stupid dream. But she hated that he was ghosting over her subconscious already. It was such an intimate and private thing, it felt wrong that he had touched it, whether he meant for it to happen to or not.

_At least I don't smell now,_ Max shrugged, trying to cheer herself up as she shut off the faucet. She still felt slimy, and her stomach was churning, but maybe Fang had sent up breakfast.

Cocooning herself in a white towel, Max stepped out of the bathroom, and, remembering her dream, managed a smile when she smelt toast.

She stopped short when she saw someone was already eating it. She surprised herself when, seeing he had strawberry blonde hair and not black, she didn't relax. "Who are you?"

The boy turned, his cheek puffed out from chewing and crumbs dusting his mouth. Although he was facing her, his eyes were staring at a spot just behind her head and not meeting hers; she didn't think it was to protect her modesty. Other than that he was fairly ordinary, willowy and tall with scruffy cropped short hair.

He swallowed, dropping the toast. "Uh, hi. I'm Iggy." He held out his hand to her, his direction slightly off. Max stared. "I – uh – I'm a friend of Fang's."

"Oh." Her mouth soured.

"No! No, I'm not like Fang – not that there's anything wrong with Fang. He's a good guy – "

"He's an _asshole_ who's taken away my life, freedom, and my safety. But yeah. Great guy."

"I brought breakfast," He said after a pause.

His cheery awkwardness was setting Max off her game – it was hard to be angry, he was like Gazzy in some ways, she could already see. But any friend of Fang's was an enemy of hers. _And who _the fuck_ does Fang think he is? Sending this Gazzy-clone to do his dirty work? _

Max plucked the half eaten toast off the ground between two fingers. "Helped yourself, I see."

"Sorry, I was hungry and…I am not making a good first impression here, am I?"

"No. But why would you want a good one?"

"Fang told me about you – "Iggy sat on the bed, speaking quickly before Max could cut him off. "And I figured you might be lonely."

"Maybe I wouldn't be lonely if my douchebag kidnapper would let me go – or let me off this floor. Or visit or something! He can't just leave me here to rot."

"Look," Iggy looked in her direction, not looking unsympathetic. "I'm sorry about all this, I really am. It's shit. I'd be pissed if I were you too. But it can't be helped; what's done is done."

Max's face was red in anger; she opened her mouth to scream at him to get the fuck out of her room. But he cut her off quickly. "And for the record, he does want to visit. He's just busy, is all."

"Could've fooled me," Max muttered.

"Anyway…breakfast?"

"Breakfast."

"You gonna eat? Fang'll kill me if I let you starve,"

"Let's make a deal…" She trailed off, waiting.

"Iggy."

_Weirdo._ "Let's make a deal, Iggy. I'll only eat if you answer my questions."

Iggy paused, remembering Fang's warnings. Then, "Deal. But they have to be yes or no questions only."

"No – "

"And you can only ask twenty questions."

"No - !"

"Fine. No questions then."

"I'll take it."

After dashing to the closet with surprising eagerness, Max returned, dressed and hungry. She swallowed, tentatively approaching the bed where Iggy was sitting.

_Remember what happened last time you met a stranger?_

_Shut up._

Max grabbed some toast, still standing. They ate mostly in silence, but when Iggy finished, Max pounced. "What city are we in?"

"Yes or no only, remember?"

She huffed. "Are we in Vegas?"

"No."

"Are we in America?"

Iggy paused, as if he didn't know how to answer. "No."

"Are we in the UK?"

"No."

"Middle East?"

"No. You're wasting your questions."

"Oh. Right. Is Fang really a hotel heiress?"

Iggy choked, before bursting out laughing. "Is that what he told you?"

Max nodded, stunned. "So it's not true?"

"Of course not!"

"Is his name really Fang?" She asked faintly; her stomach was rolling again.

"No – okay. I get it; you want answers. But are these really all going to be about Fang? 'Cause not that he isn't a very _fascinating_ guy, but I'm here too."

_But I'm not interested in _you. "Um, okay. Is your favorite color...purple or something?"

"Blue, actually."

"You broke the rules. But okay. Are…are you blind? Oh, my God. I'm sorry. That was rude."

Iggy grinned loosely, looking stoned. "Ah, don't worry about it. And yeah. E-may O-nay Ee-say. Comprende?"

"Si." Max laughed, and found herself wondering if she had people like Iggy around, maybe she wouldn't be miserable here. And then she felt the feeling in the back of her throat.

She didn't remember running to the bathroom, but she was there the next second, bent over the toilet and puking her guts and breakfast out.

"Oh, sweetie." She felt Iggy behind her, sweeping back her hair. He looked worried. "You're not pregnant are you?"

Max puked again.

"Was that a no?"

It kept coming, terrible lurching and heaving. Spit and vomit and… "Iggy," Max whined, "There's blood." _So much blood._

Iggy froze. "Shit." _Shit indeed._ "What's wrong with you? Are you allergic to muffins or something? Oh shit. What do I do? I'm not prepared for this – I never went to med. school!"

Max was trying not to lick her lips, she didn't want to taste it again. Her fingers were white, gripping the edge of the seat. She didn't want to, of course, but here Iggy was clueless. What else should she have done? "_Get Fang,"_

He straightened, glad for some direction. "Right. Okay. Uh, are you gonna puke again?"

Max shook her head no, and Iggy tried picking her up. He only half managed it, with her half on his back and hobbling along him to the bed. "Right." He said at last. "Just…lay there okay? Try and sleep. I'll get him."

Max nodded, falling to her back so she could see the ceiling of her four-poster. It was black, without anything there. But it provided some comfort; it wasn't difficult to concentrate, and it let her head stop spinning. She decided she liked it.

"What happened?" Max saw, yes, they were here already. Iggy was hanging back a few feet; what with Fang was standing right over her, his eyes dark as always but with so much rawness in them.

"Hi." Her head tilted, and she squinted_. _What color were they?_ I thought they were just black but…_

"I don't know! We were just talking and then she started puking blood and shit." Someone was saying behind him. Max couldn't remember his name.

There were three Fang's over her, rotating like the hands of a clock, all with that same furious expression. "Fuck. She lost a lot of blood, Ig. Just look at her." The first Fang was saying, while the third shoved her feet under the covers of the bed.

The second had his hand over her forehead, brushing away hairs from her sweaty forehead. She decided she liked the second Fang best.

**_X_**

**It's been just over a month since my last update. ****And wow that was a shit ending to a chapter. I don't really like this chapter in some parts, it's sloppy, but I refuse to rewrite it again.**

**I struggled a lot with Fang in this chapter – mainly because I wanted to make him more human. Which is basically selfish in nature, vulnerable but doesn't show it, and generally clueless as to what the fuck is going on. Of course, he couldn't be **_**too **_**vulnerable. He's the devil. You can see I struggled. And now I'm like, "Crap. What if he's not vulnerable enough now?_ Ugh_." So tell me what you think. I'll try for some actual Max and Fang interaction next chapter, get that chemistry rolling. **

**To sum it up, Fang he feels like he **_**needs**_** her there. She's a practically a bodily function; that air that he's been burning to breathe in for centuries. Like sure, he could live without her – but he **_**doesn't want to.**_

**As far as Iggy goes, he kind of disobeyed Fang because – Fuck it, he's Iggy. For those of you who don't know Pig Latin, Iggy says. "Me no see." I'm sorry, I was planning on having a more Max and Iggy bond moment but then this crappy chapter happened. And Max was kind hallucinating at the end, seeing triple because of blood loss, in case you couldn't tell. **

**l'm so I'm so fucking tired I didn't preview this, so If there are any mistakes I'm sorry! REVIEW PLEASE.**

**Here are the layers of Hell:**

**1. Limbo**

**2. The Lustful**

**3. The Gluttonous**

**4. The Hoarders and Spendthrifts**

**5. The Wrathful**

**6. The Heretics**

**7. The Violent**

**8. The Fraud**

**9. The Traitors**


	5. Little Girl

**That last chapter was such shit…I'm sorry you suffered. I'll try and do better. **

**Anyway I actually made a (sort-of-not-really) visual for this story, if you wanna check it out the link is on my account! Be sure to read the description! I'll add more later, but I had to be careful for spoilers.**

**I got a question on what Iggy's role was in Hell sooo…Iggy is the blind Prophet. If you felt like, you could go Google him up. But I'd prefer it if you didn't because I'm not entirely basing this story off of Greek Mythology and Christianity; there'd be too many contradictions. And anyway, Iggy can see the future, but it's not always definite until it's already happened, you see? Fang kept him around because he's useful, Iggy's just there for the ride, and now they're friends. Okay?**

_**_Little Girl_**_

Max couldn't have guessed what had happened after she had fallen asleep last night, when the rolling in her stomach had paused long enough for her to rest. Before that, she remembered Fang telling Iggy to get a bowl, and she had laughed sloppily and told him. "That's what my mom would do when I was little."

Truthfully, she thought Fang would have left her again and run off to wherever he usually went, leaving Iggy to play nurse. She'd only see Fang a handful of times since she'd been here. _Clearly_ a kidnapped teenage girl locked in a bedroom was _not _his top priority.

She sure as hell didn't expect him to be asleep with her in bed - but there he was, sound asleep and inches away.

He was flat on his stomach, the Crescendo of his breath opening up his chest slowly like the wings of a butterfly. His biceps folded neatly under a pillow, and his face was turned away from her. In her frozen panic, she could still make out some black design, sheathed partly by the sheets up his back.

When icy shock receded, she jerked away quickly. She hadn't realized how close the bed's end was until she was already falling like a clumsy star.

She landed with a loud bang, hard on her side but narrowly missing the nightstand. There was a groaning behind her, and she realized Iggy had stayed too. Now the blind man was rubbing sleep out of his sightless eyes and staring at her direction in annoyance_. _

"Are you okay?" Fang asked from above her, not sounding at very concerned. Max flattened her hair quickly. _Bedhead_, she thought, _should be a universal ugliness._

Fang's bedhead was crooked. "No answer?"

Max came to, remembering to be angry. "Didn't your mommy ever tell you what personal space is?"

Fang stood, looking unfazed. "Didn't daddy ever tell you not to talk to strangers?" In her anger, a rush of heat went to Max's face. She took a breath before answering. "_Iggy_ managed to sleep on the floor,"

"Of course," said Fang. He had turned so his back now faced her, and Max could see what she couldn't before: his tattoo. "The bed's not big enough for the three of us. Someone had to make the sacrifice."

"That's not what I meant," Max said distractedly. Of all things, it was a tree as naked as his chest. The black ink branched up his vertebrae and spread all over his shoulders, the tallest only a leaf away from the hair at the nape of his neck. She looked away fast. "It's called _boundaries._ Ever heard of them?"

Fang was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his massive chest and frowning at her. "And put some clothes on," Max added putting her hand to her head where it ached painfully.

"Why? Is it distracting you?"

"As _if!"_ Max was about to snap heatedly, but not before Iggy made some obscene cutting gesture with the blade of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Fang asked.

"Cutting the sexual tension." Both of them glared at Iggy as he grinned. "Fang and me thought we should stay with you for the night. In case you were dying."

Fang objected quickly. "She's_ not_ dying."

"Well if she is she's in the right place for it." Fang smacked Iggy's arm, who howled. "What was that f – _oh."_

Both boys had gotten very quiet. Fang looked annoyed. "What?" Max was sitting on the bed, trying to look more suspicious than nauseous.

Iggy was looking at the wall behind Max's head. "It's nothing. Just an inside joke."

Before Max's could call him about on this obvious lie, her stomach lurched and she was lunging for the abandoned bowl besides her. Over her loud sickness, she could barely hear Fang swear but felt his fingers as he swooped her hair over her neck.

She shouldered his hands away, gasping for breath. "Don't touch me."

"I think…" said Iggy slowly, appearing besides her like a genie. "We should take her to doctor."

A doctor. A doctor who was from the _outside _– outside the hotel. A doctor who was surely responsible and sensible and would have a cell phone and would want to help her?

"Absolutely not." Fang was still behind her where she couldn't see, holding away her hair, but she knew his face was shrewd up in concentration.

"She's only gonna get worse," As if proving Iggy's point, Max hurled again. "C'mon, something is seriously wrong with her. And if she keeps puking blood like that she's gonna need a blood transfer – and though I am a man of many talents, I'm not a medic. Neither are you."

"_Iggy."_ Fang hissed looking meaningful. "The only doctors around here are _here_ for a reason_– "_

"_I know._ But I know a guy – he never finished med. school before…_you know_," Iggy confided. "But he knows enough and he owes me a favor. He'll keep quiet about her. There's just one _teeny_ thing you might have a problem with…"

Fang was looking at Iggy hard. He took a breath before shutting his eyes again. "Please tell me it's not who I think it is."

"Can't do that."

**_X_**

"You don't have to carry me," Max grumbled, folded stiffly into Fang's arm with arms crossed. Except for one quick and expressionless glance, the passive boy didn't appear to have heard her. Max huffed. "I _can _walk, you know."

Fang's response was jostling her up in his arms, adjusting his hold on her so it was firmer and closer despite her squirming. She looked at Iggy helplessly. "Can't you do something?"

"You look awfully cozy to me," Iggy said innocently, scurrying ahead just out of reach.

They were currently on the way to the doctor, just several ugly cream hallways and one floor down. Dark wood crawled hallway up the cream walls and every now and then there were paintings that matched the brown and tan floral carpeting.

Max sighed loudly, kicking one leg that hung over Fang's forearms. "I have to throw up," she told him, searching for a reaction. He stared on ahead stonily and she tried again. "I have to go the bathroom. Lady troubles. I ate a live dog once. Oh, and did I mention I'm really a man? I died in a horrible car accident. That's right, I'm speaking to you from beyond the grave - "

Fang blinked. "What?"

Max smirked as they followed Iggy into what was a makeshift hospital room. Painted like any other, this one was empty save for a twin bed and a table with supplies spread. A man in a white coat stood by the window, and just now turned to greet them.

Fang bent his head towards Max, startlingly close. "Don't talk." He ordered in her ear.

Because he thinks she'll say something about Fang kidnapping her and will try to escape, Max presumed. "Duly noted," she drew out.

The doctor in front of them was blond with animated blue eyes. And he was young, older than her clearly, but almost too young to be a doctor.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Gunther-Haggen. You can call me Dylan, if you like" He said to her, and then he looked at Fang. "You can set her on the bed."

Fang stood still pointedly, before finally doing so standing but stayed close.

"Thanks for doing this," Iggy said to Gunther-Haggen, and he nodded.

"So? What's the problem?" He asked, arms folded.

Iggy was the one that answered. "She's been throwing up blood. Last night and again today."

"Any headaches?"

"Yes." Fang said, just how he could know that Max didn't know.

"Are you in any pain?" Dylan stared at her curiously.

"Yes," Max answered immediately, suddenly acutely aware of how much pain she was in. Like her bones were shrinking and her ribcage were closing around her heart like a stubborn fist.

"Hmm," Dylan hummed, his fingers at his lips almost posing to look thoughtful. "Well, we'll draw some blood and run some tests, then give you some medication for the pain that should put you to sleep."

"Shouldn't the solution be giving her blood, not taking more?" Fang demanded looking very annoyed. Dylan stared back at him with a remark just on his lips.

"Ah-ha," Dylan chuckled finally and without humor. "I_ am_ the doctor here, Fang. Iggy, hand me those needles."

"Show me a PhD," Fang muttered heatedly, but with Iggy and Dylan having already forgotten Fang's temperament Max was the only one who heard.

"Hey," She said to him. "I get that you're the one in charge here, but if a girl's dying I think the best move would be to take her to a real doctor – not a college drop out."

"You're not dying." Fang blew hair out of his eyes. "And believe me, I don't like going to him anymore than you do,"

Max had to refrain from grinning – the last thing she needed was to make friends with this creep, but she couldn't help but ask. "What, did he sleep your girlfriend once or something?"

"I don't have a girlfriend,"

"Wonder why," Max said dryly, trying not to be heard over Dylan and Iggy gathering the clinking thin bottles that would hold her blood soon. "Maybe it's because you kidnap people."

A muscle in his jaw was twitching. "You think?" Fang asked.

"Oh yeah. It'd definitely be a deal breaker for me."

"Guess I'm out of luck then," Fang said back, and Max wanted to ask what me meant. Instead she remembered he hadn't answered her question and told him so. To which he replied, "You never asked a question in the first place."

Swallowing her impatience Max asked, "Why do you hate him?"

"Why don't you hate me?" He looked at her, suddenly serious and curious and worried, almost as if he wondered he'd said too much.

Max had gotten still like new corpse in an open casket, but then she blinked and a startled shock splashed over Fang like he had seen a statue come to life and he knew she was angry.

"Who says I don't hate you?" She demanded. "I never said I didn't hate you. I could hate you. And you'd deserve it."

"A lot of people hate me," Fang was impersonal all at once. "Thousands of people hate me and they've hated me for years and they will for years to come. Even the dead hate me – that doesn't help them, it's pointless, in fact. It's pointless of me to care. So why should I care start to care if one little girl hates me?"

"Alright, Max," Dylan jumped in holding needles in hand. "Are you ready?"

Max steadily ignored him, raising her chin as she glared at Fang. "I guess you don't." she said, and then bore her arm to Dylan who was tearing open an alcohol wipe.

**_X_**

_**So**_**…guess it's been a while since I updated. Are ya mad at me? Because lemme say, in my defense, I was always writing it was just like one paragraph at a time and it took like…a month or two. **

**And in this chapter we have a new character, some invasions of personal space, some slight Max and Fang flirting and then it ends with them being mad at each other. More faxness to come.**

_**Tune in next update for another entry in the FftD saga – full of angst, romance, FAXNESS, and those crazy teenage hormones! Until next time!**_


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